


Condolences

by murdergatsby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alana's feelings are complicated, Black Widow Margot Verger, Dark Comedy, F/F, Funeral Director Alana Bloom, Margot is Bold, Mentions of Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/pseuds/murdergatsby
Summary: Margot Verger is a black widow, and Alana Bloom is the funeral director that's on to her.





	Condolences

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously an AU, and purely a one shot (promise, this is it, this is all that I'm writing). I had originally started this two EatTheRare's ago, and only got around to finishing it today.
> 
> My main goal was to play with the idea of Alana being attracted to Margot's darkness, similarly to the way Will was attracted to Hannibal's. To do this, I selected character development present for Alana in s1, and character development present for Margot in s3. Alana is playful, and trusting, and big hearted. Margot is a bad b. who knows what she wants and how to get it. 
> 
> Now that that's likely been over explained: I hope you guys enjoy!

Margot Verger didn’t cry. She sat at the edge of the front pew- as every mourning widow did- wearing a veiled cloche hat and a short, black sheath dress- as many widows didn’t dare. Her eyes weren’t on the open door of her late husband’s casket, but fixated on a point above it. She seemed distant- not only from emotion but from the very room they were sharing. She seemed calm and anchored; she seemed powerful.

When Alana had first met Ms. Verger, Ms. Verger had been was a wreck. Not the sobbing kind of wreck Alana was accustomed to working with at the time, but the quiet kind. The death of her first husband had struck her like a truck, leaving her in complete shock and seemingly just  _ floating _ through her day-to-day. She was quiet and spacey, scattered in thought and often forgetful as the truth of her reality settled in with her. Alana quickly, and rather naturally, found herself becoming somewhat of a personal assistant for her. She helped her with her immediate funeral needs, and then a bit more with grocery shopping, cleaning, and keeping the loneliness at bay.

Alana had picked up early on, that Ms. Verger had been raised  _ to be a wife _ \- which was something Alana thought tragic. She found Ms. Verger to be absurdly intelligent, graceful, and  _ funny _ even while facing her new life and new empty home; her sense of humor was Alana’s favorite, being that it was drastically dry and pleasantly dysfunctional- much like her own.

In the time they spent together, Alana had developed a crush on the widow. It was innocent, and something she tolerated because it made her very good at her job. It wasn’t hard to spend time with Ms. Verger, and Alana felt she could be anything she wanted to be- if she just set her heart to it. Alana wanted to help her get there, in her own beliefs, if she could.

When Ms. Verger had stopped calling upon her it was sudden, and Alana had remembered worrying about her. She had worried that the heartbreak had finally consumed her- which was common- Alana knew, even that early on in her career- with women who had unfortunately been raised to center themselves around a man. The  _ crush _ didn’t make this worry any easier to deal with; however, Alana had her own life to live- she had a  _ business _ of heartbreak to run- and decided to keep Ms. Verger in only her thoughts and not her life.

Alana had always been good at kicking her feelings to the back-burner when it didn’t suit her, or the situation she was in; it was this trait that had first attracted her to a career with such demand for heavy emotional labor. They taught this very thing ad nauseam during her training: Not everyone wants help, and not everyone will accept it- Not everyone  _ can be helped _ . Leaving Ms. Verger be was what was healthy for her and, she figured, if she was needed again Ms. Verger would know where to find her.

This is exactly what Ms. Verger did when her second husband died, only two years later. And then, again, with the passing of her third and fourth husband. All three men had died suddenly and somewhat mysteriously- but never enough to cause too much fuss. Each man had died _differently_ _enough_ to not have formed a pattern and they were all of a _believable_ age to pass suddenly. In fact, since the first, they had all gotten progressively older.

That, in itself, was a red flag for Alana. Ms. Verger had once joked with her about “having a type,” and Alana had laughed. Now, they were meeting for the  _ sixth time _ at the funeral for her  _ fifth _ husband, and Alana found the joke  _ harder _ to laugh at.

As relatives, friends, and friends of relatives came to visit Ms. Verger’s husband's body, Ms. Verger dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief monogrammed with his long-lost-initials. She nodded along with their words, and stressed her lips as if it would hurt to try and speak. No one expected her to, of course.

From where Alana was standing she couldn’t hear what was being said to her, but her reactions always felt sincere. At least, they would have if Alana hadn’t spent five other funerals studying this same performance.

As each person turned to walk away from Ms. Verger she  _ always _ reset her expression to complete vacancy. Sometimes, she'd have the smallest of smirks- but it always settled into  _ vacancy _ . Coldness in face of death was something Alana had grown to realize was normal- much more so than frantic hysteria- especially with individuals who had experienced death often.

When it happened to you a lot, and it happened around you a lot, it stopped being so catastrophic.  _ It still hurt _ , but you started to learn that life  _ did _ go on.

That’s not what this was, that Alana was reading in Ms. Verger’s energy; Ms. Verger was  _ bored _ . She was bored of  _ pretending _ she was mourning the death of  _ yet another  _ husband.

_ That’s sloppy _ . Alana mused.  _ If you’re going to be a killer, at least have some passion. _

The death of her brother is what brought on the deepest of Alana’s concerns. It was their fourth time meeting and, despite his youth, it went over just the same with the police- it was just a freak accident, the way he found himself trapped at the bottom of a well for several weeks.

Mason, her brother, had not been a kind person in life. He was reckless, and he was an embarrassment to the family with the way he acted out so frequently. At his funeral, Alana expected to see unity over his loss; unity over a kind of relief that they would no longer have to worry about him and what he might do. Instead, she witnessed Ms. Verger sitting alone while others leered at her and whispered about her. She was unbothered, but her family all seemed to  _ know _ something.

Alana kept her eyes on Ms. Verger through the entirety of the service. She didn’t know why; it didn’t make a difference. Ms. Verger was the same as she always was, just slightly older and  _ slightly more _ devastatingly beautiful-  _ confident  _ was a good word for it. Alana’s observations didn’t make her any less convinced of Ms. Verger’s guilt, and it didn’t offer up any more evidence Alana  _ or anyone else _ could use to prove what they all thought Ms. Verger was doing.

Watching her for the full hour didn’t make her husband any less  _ dead _ .

Alana could, just as easily, dip away and take her lunch- she knew Ms. Verger wouldn’t mind. Alana could, just as easily, look  _ literally anywhere else _ in the room. She could zone out in her mind as she did during most of her services, or make a checklist of all the things she needed to do with the remainder of her day. Despite all her options, Alana stayed with her eyes glued to Ms. Verger’s profile.

When the service concluded, and the room cleared of every breathing body save for the two of them, Ms. Verger walked to her with the same casual step she always did.  _ They always did this _ . Her heels clicked evenly on the granite, and found a way to sync up with the way Alana’s heart was beating. Alana felt the need to stand her ground as she approached, despite being physically unthreatened.

“I’m sorry for you loss Ms. Verger.” Alana said, coolly. She didn’t let the tension she felt show. She uncrossed her arms, righted her posture, and smiled the way she did at all of her clients: _sympathetically_.  
“You’ve always been so kind.” Ms. Verger began. She met Alana with a much more vibrant smile than her own. It was anchored deep in her chest and blossomed over her lips with a kind of bursting sincerity similar to joy. “It’s a tragedy that we only meet under these circumstances.”

“Mhm.” Alana hummed. Nothing about Ms. Verger’s emotional presentation, physical presentation-  _ anything _ \- read that she was at a  _ funeral _ . The way she spoke was as if they were meeting at club, or simply bumping into one another on the street. “That’s how I always feel when I meet good people in this line of work. It is a tragedy.”

Ms. Verger nodded with understanding, before starting to speak again. “That time we spent together, when my first husband died?” She began, waiting to see if it sparked memory in Alana’s mind the same way it did her’s. “I reflect on it fondly, and often. Not everyone has been so kind to me, amidst all this.”

For just a moment, Alana found herself swallowed by the guilt of thinking poorly of Ms. Verger,  _ at all _ . Ms. Verger had never been unkind to her- not once. No matter how unhappy she found herself, and no matter how toxic the environment was around her, Ms. Verger always made the effort to be  _ nice _ over  _ cruel.  _ For just a moment, Alana wondered if she might be entirely wrong about  _ who Ms. Verger was _ . Maybe she was just a gorgeous young woman who had a taste for older men, who didn’t know how to live alone so she married quickly and hastily. Maybe people gossiped because they were wrong too. Maybe there was nothing more to this than bad luck.

“If I wanted to see you outside of here, ever,” Ms. Verger asked, interrupting Alana’s train of thought. Her eyes found Alana’s and the seafoam of her irises made Alana feel as if she were drowning. “Would that be a possibility?”

_ Oh, no _ . Alana thought.

“What?” Alana gasped over the sound of hollow ringing that had invaded her ears. She grew wide-eyed and blinked as if she thought Ms. Verger were a mirage that she could batt away.  
Ms. Verger chuckled to herself, which made Alana want to repeat her question.

“What if I wanted to take you to lunch?” Ms. Verger rephrased. “As a thank you for all you’ve done. Past, present, and unfortunate future?”

Alana continued to blinked at her, in shock at the absolute boldness she was experiencing.  _ We are at your husband’s funeral. _

“Dinner, even.” Ms. Verger added, as if  _ lunch _ had been the problem- as if  _ dinner _ didn’t make this situation much, much worse.

Alana got the feeling that she wasn’t going to stop until she  _ at least _ spoke  _ a syllable _ , so she found herself trying to mouth words she hadn’t yet selected.

“You don’t need to thank me for doing my job, Ms. Verger.” Alana managed, after a few false starts.

“ _ Margot _ , please.” Ms. Verger corrected, entirely unphased by Alana’s half-rejection. “As a date, then?”

Alana felt herself blush, and wished she were in a position to slap the color from her cheeks.

If this had happened  _ before _ , it would have been easy to say yes. In fact, Alana found herself wanting to say  _ yes _ anyway, and it stumped her. Given everything she suspected, she knew she shouldn’t… but she wanted to. She wanted Ms. Verger-  _ Margot _ \- to know she wanted to say yes, too.

Ms. Verger waited for Alana’s answer with relaxed posturing, a relaxed smile, and prolonged eye contact. She wasn’t going to be swayed by Alana’s doe-eyed silence.

“I don’t know…” Alana began, turning herself away as if she were looking for something else to take her attention. There was  _ nothing _ around them, and she wasn’t looking to run. “I don’t know if that would be wise.”

That, was honest. It wasn’t wise to accept an offered _date_ at her _client’s_ ** _funeral_** _._ It wouldn’t be wise to accept an offered date, either, from someone who _kills_ _their significant other(s),_ but the first qualm- at least- held basis in solid fact. That’s what she would return to, if Ms. Verger wanted to know why.

Entirely non-threateningly, Ms. Verger reached forward to bring Alana’s full attention back to her. It started as a hand to the shoulder, and then she swept her fingers down the back of Alana’s arm. She held her- softly- just above her elbow, and Alana moved to look at the way Ms. Verger’s fingers collected the fabric of her white, stiff-cotton shirt before letting herself find Ms. Verger’s eyes again.

It _may_ have been threatening, if Alana hadn’t been so open to the concept of Ms. Verger’s touch.  
“Don’t worry.” Ms. Verger said. She had the slightest humor in her tone, as if she were ready to laugh again, or as if she were about to tell a joke she could hardly contain. She leaned fully into Alana’s space and whispered up into her ear: “I only kill the boys.”  
Alana was shocked to find that her eyes could open wider than they already were.

_ Is she serious? _ She thought, as Ms. Verger pulled herself away.  _ Is she joking? _ She continued, as Ms. Verger innocently stared her down.  _ Did she just confess to me? _

Ms. Verger bounced her shoulders with a tiny chuckle. “You’re so serious, Alana.” She teased. “I don’t remember you being so serious.” She took her hand back and let it cross over her stomach, as if moving to feel her own delight build inside of her.

Alana still did not reply.

“It’s from a movie!” Ms. Verger explained, playfully raising her voice in a hopeful attempt at shaking Alana from her shock. “You’ve never seen Jennifer’s Body?”

Alana let out a sigh that transformed into her own laughter. It was nervous and bubbly, uncertain and insincere. “No, I haven’t.” She replied.  _ Am I in danger? _

Ms. Verger acknowledged this with a nod. “I’m not hearing a  _ no  _ on the date, though.” She added after a moment. She tilted her head and allowed her long hair to cascade effortlessly down her shoulder and chest.

Alana suddenly understood why it had been  _ so easy _ for a woman with  _ so many _ dark rumors attached to her to find herself  _ five _ husbands.

Alana took in a deep breath. “I think,” She began, shocked to find that her mouth worked for words. “I think I am going to have to say no.”

Ms. Verger smiled. “Okay.” She replied. She bowed her head as a way to excuse herself from the conversation, and made her own way to the door to the main hall.

When she reached the door- hand on handle- she turned back one last time to grace Alana with her earth-shattering smile. “You know where to find me, should you ever change your mind- right?” Ms. Verger asked.

Alana nodded, and Ms. Verger seemed pleased. She stepped out, letting the door metallically tap shut behind her. Alana moved to brace herself against the wall behind her just as soon as she was sure Ms. Verger couldn’t see her.

She wondered if Ms. Verger had meant she could find her at  _ her home _ , or if she was just telling her to wait for the next funeral.


End file.
